After
joining the Istanbul Biennial in 1995 as an invited participant, I am
a contemporary artist who has participated three solo exhibitions and
dozens of group exhibitions, independent demonstrations, and a
published poetry book.

I am a neo-fluxus artist.

I live in Sweden since January, 2005.

2
years before this date I met my wife, whom I fell in love with and I
am an artist who has changed his city and country in order to live
with her and two children she had before me.

When I landed at
Stockholm on January 2005, one year residence and work permit was
stamped on my passport on October 2004 that expired on October 2005.

We
entered the eighth month.

If I do not show this permit which
is not extended and meeting for permission is delayed for an
uncertain period, I will not be send back here by the customs of the
country if I go abroad, for example, when I go in my own country.

After the meeting I mentioned about, with Migrationverket on
October 2005, we made ​​a series of phone calls.

We
talked to people who think quite differently about when we might be
called.

This crisis of confidence
pushed me to this art activity.

Doing it is being postponed by him,
when he would do is unpredictable and one side of the bilateral
discussion which will open the door for “the extension of
residence and work permission”, is me making this discussion,
and to complete it.

Therefore, I would like to facilitate
Migrationsverket’s work. I want to help them.

How many people are waiting
with me, I do not know.

What problems Migrationverket lived,
whether after these racist correspondence were they had to change the
staff, train them. I don’t know.

Surely, there are reasons
that can be understood and accepted by them.

But ultimately, I
make this record where I think the thing done is practically to
destroy, suspend my travelling liberty.

What will I do?
Trying to sum up briefly, I will try to convey; what I’ve done in
this country since January 2005, what I was trying to do, what I
think, things I have observed, and how do I look at the future.

As
soon as I came, a new form of life, “a family with two children”
in my life, and moreover, I lived the required transition process for
being able to live first time in a country and city.

For a
while, a period had passed for learning what a new country, a new
city, a new house, a new way of life is asking me, what could I offer
for them, learning, teaching, trying to actualize where we would get
along with.

Moreover, we moved a few months later. So after I
come, this is my second house I live in.

It comes to the
rush of moving … A period of time has passed in this new
neighborhood that we moved with the organization of creche and school
that the children would start after summer.

Some time,
turning my face to my back, to my own country, İstanbul, I sent an
application there. İstanbul Biennial’s concept was “İstanbul”.
I offered a contemporary art event called “Istanbul rooms”.
Was not accepted, then …

After moving inside the house, in
a room, on a wall we created a small studio to work, and I
immediately began to paint.

An old personal exhibition of
mine “Kentresimleri” was drawn 150 years ago, and printed
as etching. This was an event trying to put forth figure from drawn
forms and converting 22 European cities’ core city plans to
picture. Stockholm was also taking place in them.

The
similar study method I used was a late term “kentresmi”. Its name
was “Hecate and Empusa or Izmir bay”. It is gone from me. Now it
is in a private collection.

Like
most of the others who had gone to SFI, my first friends were also
immigrants. Immigrants who have come during the same period or have
come before me, though have no Swedish education or continue their
education…Older immigrants…Our teachers…

There
is a series of life difference. You start to learn this country with
them. Water flowing in house, hot water, heating are all free. If you
are inside a space, dying from cold is not a question in this
country. The power of public transportation… Albeit
a very small sample, I observe the prevalence of metro network in
this city which we say there is finally in Istanbul also. I observe
the roads. I observe the lives flowing near me.

I made these
observations in the same time, same months – mentioning about last
spring and beginning of summer – for taking about 4000 photo
frames, I travelled in this city from one end of the suburban line to
other end as an artist. When forming a sentence from here, in reality
an absurd conclusion appears: Probably, I know the ways better than
many people. With its social, ethnic distribution, changing texture
of the city, ranging quality of the service, and all the indicators
of the city, I began to experience a new training.

I took
pictures of what? I took pictures of this city’s wall tissue. So,
what the local laws accept as crime. So, for whom the police forms
special teams for capturing the people who do it. Graffiti culture,
graffiti, stencils, stickers. New stencils pressed on them, new
stickers that are sticked, new written writings. Of all the
complexity. Trial of their deletion, the remaining tracks, of
posts-glueings on them. From district to district, from periphery to
the center, change of styles, textures, colors, words. Change of
relationship forms with the passengers passing from their side. All.
I tried to document all of the city wall texture.
I have got such an archive
about 2005.

When compared with 90s, perhaps I was in a
city where graffiti culture began to decline, but at the same time as
Istanbul, more than the sum of the population of this country,
although more likely I came from a city where almost no graffiti
culture was existing. Over time a photography exhibition project has
evolved with at least 200-250 and at most 400-450 photographs. Since
we had material to form such an exhibition, I could apply somewhere
for an exhibition.

I applied to Tensta Konsthall because it
was a contemporary art center of an immigrant district. But I think
that place – later on I had a conversation with manager friends and
I learned – does not want to be remembered as “immigrant district
contemporary art center”, and given up this effort, and examples of
this effort, and had entered the process of believing the meaning of
making programs not different from the programs of a contemporary art
center’s programs, alas!

I think for this reason, and
perhaps also thinking that they would not be able to find support to
meet required press expenditures, they rejected. But as friend has
conveyed, they have liked.

At
that time also, and perhaps one of the two works I can do – I can do
one of two work-,I designed Engelska Riskförbundet’s monthly
publication of the “Birlik” for one issue. It was not an
existing journal with its content. Besides its design, I included
about twenty articles to enrich all its content.I included 6-7
photographs of mine, one of them being cover photo. I saved the
subject that take place on the cover and make up the weight of the
content for this research. They accepted. They wanted. Perhaps
“Birlik” was the first publication that issued the results of
this research.

Graffities were photographed, as well as
this city was toured from one end to another, became witness of such
an analysis, and I spent time designing a publication with these
results forming its contents. All of these, necessarily, would bring
the conditions of designing more powerful contemporary art event and
presenting this to somewhere, and it brought.

I designed a
project calle “Reflex”. This was an “outside” art event. A
multi participatory art event.

Immigrant neighborhoods,
especially driving on the highway you can see their side, which is
etched in minds, or in the case of a report that the illustrations
used in those places you know, there are certain silhouettes.
Everyone knows… Then
on these silhouettes, these large, long and high structures, – the
existence of which I learned in this country, I liked much, very
functional, especially in the dark months of life has become an
integral part of life, we wear for children with care, everyone wore
– consider 30 meters big reflexers are hung. In the same form,
perhaps in the form I determine, with the same sweetness, innocence,
entertainment, pleasantness. Just visualize…Moreover,made of small
again, yellow, white, gilt,and small pink reflexers. Connected with
each other or sewn .

Who did this? The people who live in
the neighborhood where these are hung. They have participated
voluntarily to this event. Maybe I have presented, perhaps we have
created forms together.

When were they hung? They were hung
in every immigrant neighbor with seperate festivity.

How
long will they stay hung? Two months… In these darkest months.

Highway traffic would always flow facing their reflections.
Trying to understand what they were, learning, looking at it that way
again. Vehicles, will pass telling us that simple message – not
different than their actual usage: “Protect me”, “see me”,
“don’t crash, do not give harm to me!”.

To provide
such a simple sentence, with such a festive and public participation,
is it necessary to have a very participatory process? For me it is
necessary. Because the place I look at art is such a place. People
themselves, as if they are in the flow of their lives, ultimately
with a lot of parts arising from that ordinary life, not the
existence of a so high, noble kind of creation of art , I believe in
that artistic creation. I believe there is a creative potential even
in people who call themselves ordinary. I believe, with a
provocation, with a call for it, collectively, with participation,
they themselves could constitute creation itself. I am putting
together “art-games” from the point I tell “How good this would
be if it were seen”.

Eventually, my “Reflex” project
was such a project and of course it needed much support. It needed
too much permission, operation (burocratic). Needed calls to be made.
Needed labor – and this was the easiest, requiring not much money –
Therefore, it should be presented somewhere. For doing this work with
their collectiveness.

First I presented to Kulturhuset.
Correspondence took months. It was a correspondence not requiring to
last for months. Actually this situation brought for me to start to
know another institution: Artistic burocracy. Correspondence took
several months, and perhaps with mail amount reaching ten, while
having a project requiring things to be said about, they talked about
everything, sending me from here to there, however they never wrote a
word about the project. Finally when they wrote, they wrote it
because I wanted. This was unbelievable. “Lagom” ! I started to
learn “lagom”. It is the most powerful and deepest institution!.
It surrounds everywhere. I started to learn “lagom”. All habits,
gestures, facial expressions, all collectiveness, concessions,
cowardliness, retreats, tranquillization,
started to learn “lagom” the code of calling back the animal at
the bottom downwards and downwards,

Already been taught in
all areas of life. So, does teaching it mean “passing” it to
people? No. Aren’t there people who come to this country, becoming
more Swedish than pure Swedish, having discriminatory even
humiliating attitudes, even old hidden racist immigrants? There are.
But, generally in this country, I think, there is not many immigrants
who have been taught and adopted all of these mandatory secret codes.
This country, to this country, to life flowing in this country, to
people, to anything belonging to people, called into being a set of
human, roughly looking to everything from two different aspects. How
good is that! It is an extraordinary chance for Sweden to bring all
this fortune, cultural exchange, different experiences of different
civilizations to this lonely land free from war, painless, calm,
remote, to the middle of these people belonging to this land.

Poor, was not there, was nothing too full, I do not mean a
thing happened. Do not look from this point of view. Maybe it’s a
powerful shaman in north, which has still intense relationship with
the underground spirits , with a strong mythology, a completely
different side of life, so lonely, so far, a very cold face, a sorrow
that flows through all of them raised a deep culture of this country.
Or else, how would a Bergman arise from this country?

While
talking about this richness and lagom, the sentence I started is left
behind: I was correponding with Kulturhuset. There was not a single
word regarding my project in those mails one coming after another.
Finally, I learned that, Kulturhuset had no objective and subsidy for
outside projects. It is not accepted. I turned to Tensta Konsthall
and send it there. With the same assumption and in good faith…For
me, this place was still an immigrant neighborhood and contemporary
art center and how good it was. Even though they found it interesting
they did not accept also. Because they were not sure to organize the
required support.

My studentship continued. In summer I went
to Turkey with my family and came back. Good thing…It feels good.
Upon returning, I started to make the big picture I wanted and
finished: “My hero from 9/11”. It did not go. I still have it.

I worked for a web site that takes long to produce and still
could not finish, almost believing that it is cursed. Tried to
accelerate that process. I continued to enter the information I
needed to enter.

I started to correspond with a publishing
house in Turkey for following the published material, and for
publishing my two poem books that I have filed already. Next year, I
will try to procure its publishment.

In this process, at the
same time, I studied the possibilities of the foundations and public
organizations that support the artist. I decided to apply to several
of them. I came into line for studio. The portfolio I sent was
enough for them. They accepted immediately. Recently a studio was
available but it was to large and expensive for me. I am still in the
row.

I applied for studio support. “I applied for finding
support for my “Reflex” project. Upon arrival, turning my face to
my city, I applied for the provision of support for my “Rooms”
project which I have told that I had presented to Biennal. From the
sum of all these observations and thoughts I mentioned about, a
picture weighted exhibition project called “Lagom” is developed.
I applied to find support to it. I made several graphic designs in my
country and here for making my way, for having support elsewhere.

I love my children very much. I love my wife very
much. I started to love this country more and more.

I had a
creation which was the reason for starting to correspond with
Kulturhuset while I was in Istanbul. When I was conveyed about the
acceptance of my residence and work permit on October, 2004, they had
made their decision based on art object I had presented two months
before. Of course we had an “interview” but I had taken this art
object to the interview and presented it to Migrationsverket. This
was an art object named “About Hakan Akçura’s love and
identity”. This was a book containing; my relation from the first
day of our meeting which was the reason why I came, certificates of
my marriage, photos of each stage, screen shots (screen prints), and
after that my creative curriculum vitae, pages of my printed
catalogs, criticism written for me, clippings of the interviews, my
art and edition of web pages that include my art and my name. My
photograph artist friend had taken photos of me from top while I flip
each page of the book. While I was waiting the result of my
application, I have presented all these photos as a slide show, to
Kulturhuset, maybe each of them to be presented with digital press
for a larger exhibition. With a project named “For residence and
work permit”…They conveyed me that they could not find the
possibility to exhibit in such a short time, and thanking, they
rejected.
Since then, with all these flowing process 4 art
books can be formed like that. Intensive flowed time. Intensive
flowed life.

One of my child is in nursery school, the other
one is in elementary school. They stay one week with us, and one week
with their father. Their father is a very good friend of mine. From
my school, from my wife’s environment, flowing through life, I
started to acquire friendships slowly but gradually increasing. Some
of them are Swedish. I met wise and creative, very brave young
people. Both the culture of graffiti in the city, not the loneliness,
light, shadow, other objects and people trying to document the
existence of a total of times, and I’ve met a lot with them in the
following months …

I liked the nature
of this country very much. I liked the priority given to a child in
flowing daily life very much. I liked people’s respect to animals
and nature very much. I liked the sky very much. But one of the first
information I had was totally against what I have conveyed. I have
never seen any other country where such a large number of young
population treating old people so hard, so intolerably as if they had
joint resolution. They look at these old people like they do not need
to live, like it is not necessary for these people to live there. Or
sometimes they look at old people as they were ready consumers while
others work. Young people were very tough.

When you look
around from here, “loneliness” is reached. Such a large number,
such a deep loneliness, one by one but the existence of human beings
living together in such a country, it was not anything I can imagine.
Of course, the origin of this loneliness, even if they are arrived
later to this city-perhaps a hundred years ago, it is deep, it also
has a strong impact on special deep loneliness of Swedish peasantry
living alone 2 km. away from each others’ houses, sparse and
scattered.
But for sure, I will never forget one day in
particular. That day it started as if an interesting thing was being
observed was a very deep education for me:

Our journey
was with metro, where many Swedish and several immigrant children
were in the railway car, was a journey from center to periphery to
their region. Children welcome among themselves, speak calmly and
with all the other Swedes, while we calmly looked around us …At a
moment, where an internal language with known and hidden laws that
flows through all pure Swedes knowing how young people should be
looked at, one of the young men quickly slapped on wagon glass
“thud”.

What kind of a state, gestures, facial expressions,
total of ready sentences “lagom”, but also, unfortunately, in the
eyes of immigrant children who deserve such a reaction, is involving
the growth of a secret racism in an inner language. Unfortunately!
None of them know it and live it.The people of this country, with a
deep knowledge of civilization, they know how much of a civilized
community they are in terms of equality and justice. These people
are not still considered as Swedish people,still each of them is
considered to be “invandrare”, would stay always like that, they
have entered this country on foot and will continue to enter by
walking… When will the community itself will be Sweden in the eyes
of everyone? Very likely! Not likely! Very impossible! Not! World
flowing booming. Migration from anywhere to anywhere…
But
the difference is that migration in general, is the migration of
people to places where wars, suffering, death, massacre, torture,
difficulty, is experienced with more different heat and places that
experienced alike things, but not here. They
have a story where almost none of these are experienced, only to find
the stories of heroism one must go up to Vikings, Almost none of them
have not experienced a date, only to find the stories of heroism to
gidilmsi up to the Vikings, what good is that recently war, poverty,
is not seen, what good is that very deep pain, torture, is not seen,
and migration to a country where no laments are heard.

I
don’t know. These are the observations of an artist who has lived
for a year in this country. You can read me from here, you can know
where I will be today from here, what I will do tomorrow, where I
would flow my creation, what I will think, how I will stay, how I
will live, someday how I will think or not think to be a citizen.…

I
am “passing”! Am I included in here? No. But do I “belong”
there? No. Such as who? Already like all migrants…They just cannot
belong here.

The third generation is here now. Those who
were born here. People who do not have other country. From out of
nowhere “do not come from”. But they themselves do not feel
Swedish. They are not encouraged to feel. Names, definitions, each
being an “invandrare”… But they do not have other
countries! I have one. Decrease? I do not know. Increase? I do not
know. But I “pass” here. I have, but I do not have as much
as a year ago!

If you have questions regarding my flowing
relations, my family life, relations with my children, ask these
questions to people in nursing school, people at school, my
neighbors. I feel that, you will have more proper answers.

But still a man who has come from
the Aegean region, a man who comes from Istanbul, feel it very
deeply. Blue sea, I miss real blue sea so much.

When I go out
from the country, at customs, they will look at my passport to see
whether I have “residence and work permit” in this country. For
this reason I don’t go out thinking that I could not return. I am
afraid of not being able to go out. I am sure that people who wait
with me have similar reasons seperately. I don’t know how many of
them were obliged to concoct excuse to take front queue. Either he
“killed somebody” in his country or made somebody ill. Their
queue was either taken front or not.

But I am just telling
you my wish. “I want my travelling freedom! I did not do
anything for this injustice. I am talking from a position where I can
say, none of the people who wait with me has done anything. I had
this record for helping. I will send it to you and make you see it.
I hope that the process accelerates. I hope this works.

This
is the reason of everything.

This is the reason of this art
event.

I am here.”